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A merry ride
Though the climate control seems to be back in...well, control of the climate, there are still vestiges to be found of the strange cold front that brought on the blizzard a few days ago. Some dirty snow still sits in patches around the street, and the denizens of Etti walk more quickly through the streets, looking up at the sky every so often, squinting to make out even the hint of a gray cloud that might herald another freak snowstorm. They find nothing; the sky is a perfect, cloudless blue, as it had been for the previous 2,342 standard days. Around the corner of the Qwyntiquities Mega Mall (which suffered no small bit of damage from the onslaught; the window is still broken, awkwardly taped over with gaudy yellow) a well-dressed gentleman appears. He strides forward, speaking into a comlink and making no effort to hide his words. "Oh, you will? How shocking. I know he shall be most distressed to hear of it." Smitherbodkins himself does not seem very distressed about whatever it is. He stops at a luxury speeder parked across the street from the mall, climbing into it and beginning to ready the controls. Ordinarily, this would be a lazy day. Murdock would be able to sit in front of his screens and sift through the currents of the HoloNet, searching for something randomly interesting to fight his boredom. Today, however, the Verpine was lucky enough to have a job all lined up and ready for execution. It was playtime and he was getting paid to do it! With the hood of his robe pulled up over his head, Murdock sits across the street with a heavily modified datapad in hand, a cable running from it into the backpack he presently wore. From there, he was tapped into a set of relays he had spent the better part of the week setting up to ensure he would have a certain measure of privacy during the transaction. From behind a set of dark goggles, he looks up at the speeder as it begins to accelerate. Luxury speeders were truly fantastic. New models would come out with all sorts of tech rushed into it so that the brands could perpetually one-up each other. Often, the rushing allowed individuals as gifted as Murdock to find fun little tricks to play. Remote start, remote maintenance status monitoring, remote tracking, built in comm suites to allow budding CEOs to always be in touch with their companies... The list was as unending as the possibilities. Tapping away on his datapad, Murdock initiates the process to begin creeping into the controls, his own little program ready to be injected and initiated. Smitherbodkins notes nothing amiss as of yet. He's driven the route in front of him hundreds of times, and could probably do it with his eyes closed. In fact, he's quite preoccupied, the events of the past few weeks turning over and over in his mind, bouncing off each other like shockballs gone wild. Strange happenings, unusual people, not to mention the attempt on his life and his night in the brig. The speeder gains momentum as it winds its way through the streets. However, as the program begins to work its sinuous way through the electronics, a few small things do catch the gentleman's attention. He frowns, cocking his head to one side as the speeder begins to list to the left almost imperceptibly. He straightens it out, though the frown does not leave his face, and he mumbles something under his breath, the words "modern" and "drek" thrown somewhere in there. There's a little hiccup from the engine, again barely noticeable, but it does cause him to take his foot off of the accelerator as he attempts to slow down, perhaps to stop and take a look at anything that might be wrong with the irksome contraption. Finally, RemoteC0ntrol3 v0.35 alpha takes control of the vehicle and Murdock's screen comes alive with the remote feed of the interior holocameras as well as those on the exterior and its sensors. Tapping away, he locks out local control and triggers the lockdown of the doors and windows. A new course and speed are entered and the car launches forward at maximum thrust. In the center of the console, the small built in holoprojector activates and the head of the autopilot, modeled after a true chauffeur, appears and turns to face Smitherbodkins. "Ah, hello there, good boy! I'd like to start by suggesting that you move your tray tables into the upright and locked position and please try to refrain from moving about the cabin. We're going to be taking a bit of a spirited trip today!" The character was rather cheery, with a clearly discernible Alderaanian accent. A quick turn requires that thrust be stopped for a moment and then fired back up again midway to pull through the corner. The next left is taken for an onramp to a major thoroughfare where a constant weaving between other speeders begins, often with the sort of close calls that only a computer or highly trained driver could pull off. Luckily... Murdock had some very power computers pulling overtime on this one. The clicks of the doors causes the driver (or now, more appropriately, unwitting passenger) to blink, eyebrows raising as he looks toward the side door. He flicks the switch to unlock it. Nothing. He tries again, and again he's unable to convince the locks to open. The windows yield similar results. However, he isn't able to fully realize what is happening; that is, until the face pops up on the holoprojector and begins to speak in that unnaturally lighthearted voice that those used to dealing with persnickety wealthy people have perfected over the years. Smitherbodkins can only stare at the unknown visage, mouth hanging open in a most ungentlemanly fashion. He's so nonplussed that he doesn't even attempt to turn it off, or indeed, attempt to do much of anything other than sit and stare. It's a good thing that he's no longer in control of the speeder, for if he was, he'd surely have hit a pedestrian or two. Finally, as the speeder begins its true course, Smitherbodkins springs into action. He grabs for his crash webbing and managing to lock it into place, ironically just as he passes a billboard depicting a CSA official pulling over a disgruntled looking Sullustan, the words CLICK IT OR TICKET emblazoned on the bottom in bright red letters. Thus secured, he turns to the only thing that he can address: the face on the projector. "What is this?? Who are you?!?" he demands, just as the speeder pulls around another to cut it off. The driver shakes his fist and screams something, mercifully unable to be heard outside his own enclosed vehicle. Cutting across two lanes and threading a space between a pair of hovertrucks, the luxury vehicle is once again in a long straightaway where the engine can really open up. In the seat next to Smitherbodkins, the built in bar opens to push out the bottle of choice usually kept there as well as the two glasses. Unfortunately, another swift turn is required and the bottle goes tumbling to the ground with a crash. With the smell of alcohol beginning to fill the car, the environmental systems go to work to keep filtered air moving about to cover it up as best it can. The floating head of the chauffeur looks at the mess and winces. "Oooo, sorry about that, chap." His cheerfulness returns after a flicker and the head is once more facing the man formerly known as the driver of the vehicle, "Mr. Smitherbodkins, I am a representative of Mr. Qwynt. He has tasked me with sending you a rather unmistakable message." As punctuation for the sentence, the speeder cuts to the side for a moment to bump into the side of a hovertruck with a driver behind the wheel who looks a bit rough around the edges. "I trust you are understanding what this message is?" That name. That name, such a small, insignificant thing to belong to the bring that was fast becoming the bane of Smitherbodkins' existence. His face hardens, lips pressing into a thin line just as he's jolted to the side once more. One of the glass shards goes flying upward as the hovertruck is bumped, cutting its way across his cheek and leaving a small trail of blood in its wake. He slaps his hand to the injury with a cry that has much more rage than pain in it. "QWYNT?" he screams, banging a fist down onto the console, a move that normally would have changed the channel on the projector and also set off the emergency brake, but now does nothing. "How is this possible???" All his security, all his power - and he has a considerable amount of both - shredded like so much tissue by this formerly insignificant little alien. "You can tell him th-" but what the image could tell him is cut off as he's jolted forward once more, the words sticking in his throat. Murdock, being the type that he is, takes the question rather literally. "Well, there are a surprising number of systems in the vehicle that communicate with systems residing elsewhere. It was a matter of finding a test unit for the code and then just finding some older, vulnerable subroutines for code slicing and injection. Remote control is built in for official use, it's just a matter of elevating yourself in the system and then triggering that." It's when the Verpine is going back over his answer that he understands it wasn't really about the technical sort of how but something much larger. "Oh, right. Anyways, this really is much more of a one way message. I've been told to keep it rather gentlemanly, but I'm sure you can understand how this could easily have been much less professional, no? I believe Mr. Qwynt would like it made clear that the cost of doing business is going to rise exponentially over time. It would be advisable to adjust your plans accordin-- Uh oh." Snap. Crackle. Pop. A puff of magic smoke that makes some system or another in the car work floats through the air inside the speeder. The speed remains the same, but the controlled maneuvering ends, which is made painfully obvious as the vehicle bumps the back of another. The image of the chauffeur crackles and moves about wildly until it is replaced with a hooded head of a Verpine wearing goggles. "Oh Zod is not with us today, Smitherbottoms. It would seem that your erratic driving has alerted the authorities. When they attempted to terminate my code, the self-cleaning mechanism was triggered and it may have neutered part of your vehicle. I fear that if you die that it will not constitute my message being delivered..." Murdock continued to type away furiously, unable to regain access to the vehicle and noticing that nothing other than the normal communication systems are now active and available to the outside. "I may need to walk you through some things. Stand by." The technical explanation obviously does not interest Smitherbodkins; while the image is chatting cordially, he's frantically searching for something, anything, to somehow shut off the speeder. Having almost no technological expertise, this amounts to pressing random buttons in the hope that something will override Murdock's tampering. His attempts yield no results, and he gives up, merely holding on for dear life as the voice shifts into the explanation of the message. The smoke, however, pushes all thoughts besides immediate survival out of his mind. He smacks at the spot instinctively to quell any sparks that may be emitting from it, hissing as he burns his hand on the heated console. He grabs the steering column, though the shift in the image on the viewer makes him pause, eyes going wide as they focus on the Verpine. Is that one of Miranda's? No, that one's antenna had beeb broken off...finally it dawns on him. "It's you! You, with the snow!" He yanks on the column as the speeder bumps the one in front of it, jamming the brake in a vain attempt to slow the vehicle careening out of control, "Fix this before someone gets killed!" k'Halat was just out for a drive, having borrowed a speeder from /someone/ she's working for, when she nearly got run-into by some wild and reckless driver. Yep, one of those other speeders that Smitherbodkins almost ran down, even if it really isn't his fault, was hers. She's fuming and grumbling to herself, of course... until she spots the smoke and sparks and the way he's wrestling with the controls of his speeder. She makes a snap decision... and kicks up the throttle of her own speeder, trying to pull up alongside the out of control vehicle... as close to the side of it as she can manage... "Mister Smitherbottoms, you are in no position to make demands. Let's try and keep our manners about us and mind our please and thank you's. I have been a consummate professional this entire time and I expect no less than the same from you." Murdock furrows his brow and shakes his head while he carries on with his research of the vehicles systems. "I believe I've located something. Turn the temperature all the way up, the volume all the way down, and then hit the Sport button five times. That should open a small panel near one of your knees." The Verpine waits for a moment for the businessman to perform these tasks. Being an executive, he wonders about the capabilities, especially given his complete abandonment of social customs in a time of stress. "Now, you should see a set of wires. One of them is red." He pauses for a moment for the man to locate the wire. "Do not touch it. That one is bad. Unplug the yellow and white wires and switch their spots. That should give you access to your doors and windows. I suggest working quickly because the road takes a sharp turn up ahead. While I am confident you could break through the guard rail, I am not sure you would survive the fall." The Verpine's calm yet admonishing words are too much for Smitherbodkins to endure, and he lets out a roar that's loud enough to be heard over the revving of the engine, his face twisting with rage as he pounds his fist once again on the console, just as ineffectually as the time before. As Murdock begins explaining the steps to help him free himself from this nightmare, though, he quiets, listening intently to the instructions he gives. He does as instructed, fingers working quickly as he looks up every so often to see where he's headed, though it just makes him wince since he can't change course. The panel falls open, revealing a mess of wires, as described. He begins to rifle through them, taking care not to touch the red wire. He looks, and looks some more...his fingers becoming more and more frantic. Finally, he says through clenched teeth, trying to keep a clamp on his temper lest the Verpine decide to act outside of orders and terminate him immediately, "There is...no...yellow...wire." Another bump jolts him in his seat, and he looks over to the side, spotting k'Halat's speeder. He begins to make frantic gestures, pointing to his ear and making a motion that could either be him pantomiming a comlink, or that he's deaf and should not be driving speeders, as he screams out something to her that is mostly lost in the din of the heavy traffic. "JUMP!", calls out k'Halat, trying without taking her hands off the controls of her own speeder... she's clearly NOT an expert at piloting one of these things, but she's doing her level best to try and keep it close enough for him to make the jump and at the same speed as the out of control vehicle. "Jump!", she repeats. Miranda Jabs is out for her daily walk around Capital City. Mostly it is to spy on her competitors businesses, but her doctor also says that getting out of the space station that FoxTech Industries is on is good for her health. Her round glasses have been replaced by sunglasses and a large floppy hat covers most of her face. Her Verpine slave, with the mutilated antennae, follows closely behind. As she steps out of the Qwyntiquities Mega Mall, the verpine takes out a small cloth and wipes her hands and face. Who know what could be growing in that circus. As she emerges into the street, she hears a great deal of speeder-honking and people yelling and pointing. This is odd. She looks up, mostly to make sure whatever is going on is not going on in her direction. "What?! No yellow wire? Those..." A series of unintelligible curses spew from Murdock's mouth as he digs deeper into this issue. "Ah!" He chuckles to himself and then looks up to the camera, "They switched to using ORANGE wiring in the later models! Many apologies, Smitherbottoms! Please make the switch. You have approximately one minute and twelve seconds until I have violated my contractual agreements. I'm sure you can understand how anxious I am feeling about that right now." It was time to wind down. Murdock stands up from the bench on the sidewalk he had been sitting on this whole time. He disconnects his datapad from the cable connected to his backpack and leaves it behind as he starts walking down the street, continuing to monitor the situation through his goggles. "Mister Smitherbottoms, on a scale of one to ten, how terrified would you say you have been today? I am a one man consultant, you see, and I feel it's important that I perform spot checks of my own performance. As a businessman, I am sure you understand the importance." Smitherbodkins looks taken aback at k'Halat's words. She's already bumped him, so why does she think that this will be an improvement to his present situation...oh, -jump-! He quickly moves through the wires as Murdock feeds him the correct wiring choices, and mercifully, the door locks spring open. He takes a deep breath, watching the scenery whizz by him as he ponders whether to accept death now, or wait that one minute and twelve seconds, which by now has shortened to 48 seconds. The last words from Murdock push him to a decision, and with a mirthless laugh, he opens his speeder's door and dives toward k'Halat's. He might have made it, too, if his speeder hadn't given one last jolt at the worst possible moment, flinging him to the side so that he has to grasp the side, dangling there for a minute. He finally manages to heave himself into he passenger seat, gasping for breath as he attempts to process what just happened. "Thank you..." he gasps, pulling himself up and into the seat. He doesn't say more; those two words were almost more than he could manage. k'Halat reaches over to grab at Smitherbodkins with one hand, hauling on his arm as she lets his speeder pull out ahead of hers, now, by simply letting up on the throttle. Only when he's fully inside does she put both hands back on the controls and actually start steering /away/ from the soon-to-kaboom vehicle. "I saw your panel short out... figured I could try and help you not get yourself killed", she says, as if explanation's needed. "But you owe me, natch...", she adds. Another day. Another individual who simply wouldn't answer his only metric question. Murdock would just need to sift through the HoloNet for some sort of performance indicator. It was so much work, though! For real answers he'd need to gain access to a whole corporate network and read his messages. Ugh. Another weekend wasted on information gathering. All this gloom was pushed out of his mind as the intended target of Qwynt's message makes it out of the speeding, uncontrollable vehicle. Hooray! Payday! Money was important. It brought freedom. It brought Murdock one step closer to... Let's say this quietly so He doesn't hear us... attaining the same power as Zod himself. Little by little, he was getting closer to his dreams. Perhaps it was time for a dance party to celebrate! He was sure he could find some vulnerable public signage and public address systems to take over a busy intersection in town... Maybe hijack one of those pop-up comedy groups to join in. "Of course." Smitherbodkins has composed himself somewhat; at least, enough to respond to k'Halat in a tone loosely resembling normal. He shifts position in his chair, quickly buckling his crash webbing to avoid any other unpleasant disasters. Not that he doesn't trust her driving, of course. He looks up, just in time to see his speeder explode through the median, though luckily the impact brings it to a stop, and the oncoming traffic manages to avoid it. It sits there for a moment, smoldering, before flames begin licking at the console, drawing even more stares from onlookers as he and k'Halat pass the flaming wreckage. "Please excuse me," Smitherbodkins says, "but I must make a call. It will only take a minute." He pulls out his comlink, his eyes hardening as he waits for the connection to be made. "Corporate Sector Security. Get me Dibble." A pause, then, "Da'vad! Geophreigh. Oh, quite well, quite well. I have something that you might find of interest..."